


Spectropia

by TangentialMango



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season 6/7, Uncertainty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11267760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentialMango/pseuds/TangentialMango
Summary: Julian finally knows what he wants, but Garak has never been one to trust coincidences.





	1. Chapter 1

“Doctor, you look positively dreadful.” Garak may have been known to exaggerate on occasion, but at the moment, there was no need. Julian was standing at the entrance to the shop, one hand on the doorframe for support. Beads of perspiration were scattered across his brow, and his skin had a pale, bloodless look to it. Garak moved to meet him at once.

“Thanks Garak, it’s good to see you too,” he responded with what sarcasm he could muster. Impressive really, considering the strain he seemed to be under.

Now that Garak was closer, he could see how bloodshot his eyes were as well. _Some strain of cold or flu perhaps?_ He gently guided Julian over to one of the chairs. “You know, you don’t have to prove your illness to me.” He offered Julian a handkerchief after he sat down. “I was prepared to take you at your word when you said you couldn’t make lunch today.”

“I’m not ill,” Julian said firmly, dabbing at his face and neck.

“Really? If you’re here for business, I hate to disappoint you, but I have nothing in stock that would complement your pallor.”

Julian exhaled and let his head rest against the wall. “I may not be entirely myself right now, but I’m not sick. I’ll be back to normal soon enough. I’m fine. Really.” Passing the handkerchief back to Garak, he reached into a satchel he’d brought with him. As if trying to contradict his assurances of good health, he began scanning himself with a tricorder.

“When you put it like that, I feel thoroughly reassured of your physical condition. However, that still leaves the question of why you’re here.” As he spoke, Julian put the tricorder away and administered a hypo: Dorzopredlone, a medication Garak was unfamiliar with. “You should be back in the infirmary, seeing as you’re quite healthy and fit to work.”

“Look, I can’t tell you what’s going on, but I can’t be in the infirmary right now, and I really shouldn’t be alone right now either. I’m asking you, as a friend, if I could stay here with you in your shop for a few hours.”

Garak softened a bit. “Very well.” _As if I would say no._ “But I’m afraid I’m not terribly familiar with the human immune system. It would be prudent to tell me at what point I should start to concern myself with your well-being and contact the infirmary.”

“Yes, that would be prudent. You should call for assistance if I lose consciousness,” he said with a weak grin.

“You know, for a doctor, you’re being very nonchalant about your own health.”

“I’ll be monitoring my vitals the rest of the day to make sure everything is as it should be, thank you very much.”

 _Stubborn man,_ he thought, but only offered him a smile back. _Let him keep his secret. It’s not as if I can’t figure it out on my own._

Julian went on, “Now, I know Captain Sisko asked you to start decoding transmissions intercepted from Cardassia, and I don’t want to interrupt that. I’ll keep to myself and stay out of your hair.”

 _That won’t do at all,_ Garak thought. _For all I know, he might slip into a coma if he doesn’t stay active._ “Actually Doctor…there might be something you could assist me with if you feel well enough. Your hand-eye coordination was one of the myriad of features that were genetically enhanced, was it not?”

Julian’s expression was one of schooled neutrality, “You know it was.”

 _Still a sore subject,_ Garak noted. “Then perhaps you could assist me with a commission. Demand for new clothes is understandably down, but I do still get requests from time to time. When I accepted this one, I didn’t realize we would be invading the Chin’toka system, or that I would be taking on this new decoding project when I returned. Do you think you could handle cutting pattern pieces while I continue decoding?”

Julian’s face brightened as much as it could, given the circumstances. “Ah, well that should be no trouble. It can’t be much different from using a scalpel. Where do you want me?” he asked, staggering to his feet, and for a moment Garak thought he might need to catch him, but Julian stayed upright.

Garak waved him over to the workbench where he’d already traced the pattern onto an unrolled bolt of Tholian silk. Seating Julian down at the workbench, he explained, “Now, rather than cutting along the lines, I need you to cut two centimeters outside each line.”

“Seems easy enough.” Julian took the laser cutter and began slicing through the fabric with an unnatural precision.

“Excellent work Doctor. I’ll get to work on the transmissions, if you don’t mind,” Garak said. He grabbed a PADD and took the seat at the workbench closest to the satchel, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever medication the doctor might administer next.

Each of them focused on their work in the quiet of the shop, unbroken but for the hum of the laser cutter. Garak glanced up regularly, checking to make sure Julian didn’t appear to be faring any worse.

“You know,” Julian said, “once I’m done cutting these pieces out, I’d be happy to try my hand at sewing them together.”

“Thank you Doctor, but that won’t be necessary. My customers come to me because they want that personal touch.” He offered Julian a knowing look. “If they wanted clothes made by a machine, they would just go to the replicator,” he said, hoping to elicit a response. Sadly, the only reply he received was an annoyed look.

 _Whatever is wrong with him, it must be serious,_ Garak thought, _He’s not even bothering to snipe back.”_

“How did you manage to get Tholian silk?” Julian asked a moment later. “Trade with the Tholians isn’t frequent at the best of times. With the war on, I wouldn’t think high-end commodities would be making their way to the station.”

 _Now that’s odd,_ he thought. _If there’s one thing the doctor has never shown an aptitude for, its clothing and textiles._ But he let the thought pass. Perhaps his near-perfect memory had picked up trivia regarding Tholian silk’s distinct shimmer or texture.

“Yes, it was exceedingly difficult to get ahold of. But Quark’s network of suppliers has yet to fail me. It’s a good thing too, as the client was quite insistent. Nothing but the finest for her daughter.”

“I suppose it only makes sense. When the world as you know it might get turned upside down at any moment, some people cling all the tighter to their traditions. Still, this is rather extravagant for an Ih’tanu gown.”

Now Garak was downright alarmed. Oh, he wasn’t surprised that Julian could predict what shape the pattern pieces might take when stitched together. But to properly identify it? _Since when does Julian Bashir have extensive knowledge of ceremonial garb for Bajoran rites of passage?_ He thought. _This is very peculiar indeed. I need some reassurance of who I’m dealing with here…_

“You’re quite right Doctor, You won’t believe what her mother wants to do for the hairpiece, let me show you.”

Garak went to the storeroom and picked up two swatches of gauzy fabric. One was a navy color, a perfect complement to the jewel tone blue of the Tholian silk. The other was an olive green, far too much yellow to match the blue of the dress. To anyone with a halfway decent sense of style, it would be obvious to choose the navy, but Julian was highly deficient in such matters. Whenever Garak had had the opportunity to see him in anything other than a uniform, Julian’s outfits positively screamed at him with their garish contrasting colors.

Poking his head out from the storeroom door, Garak caught sight of Julian hurriedly stowing away another hypospray – this one he recognized as a pain killer.

Presenting the swatches to Julian, he asked, “Now, which of these would you say complements the dress?”

Julian looked at both briefly before picking up the navy one. “This one would go quite nicely.”

 _This is not Julian Bashir._ Garak’s mind immediately began flipping through the possibilities of who he might be dealing with, but his expression betrayed nothing. “Isn’t it? Yet she insists on the green one for the veil, simply because it costs more. One would think that the Tholian silk would be enough, but apparently she feels the need to prove her net worth to the other parents.”

Julian noticed none of Garak’s improvisation. Shaking his head with amusement, he said, “Some people will use whatever excuse they can to show off, I suppose.”

Garak turned back into the storeroom, ostensibly to return to the swatches, but intent on figuring out who was really cutting fabric in his shop. The first and most unnerving prospect was that he was dealing with a changeling. It was an unlikely possibility. _A founder’s advantage is blending in seamlessly,_ he thought, _whereas everything about this man stands out as unusual to those who know him._ Nevertheless, it was worth ruling out. As soon as he was safely past the doorway, he pulled out the handkerchief he’d lent Julian when he entered the shop. It was still damp with sweat – not the shimmering liquid of a founder separated from its main body.

Moving quickly over to a computer, he called up a scan for life forms in his shop. A moment later, the computer reported two: one Cardassian, one unknown.

 _The hypo,_ he thought. He searched for information on Dorzopredlone on the terminal: A glucocorticoid primarily administered as an immunosuppressant for humans in the treatment of allergic reactions, inflammation, or in treatment for transplant rejection.

 _Oh._ That was when it all fell into place. _That…would be no small matter. If the doctor is going to such extremes, the situation must be dire indeed._ He felt it best to corroborate his theory, and looked up the vessels scheduled to arrive for the rest of the day. There, a Trill transport arriving in approximately three hours. That was all the confirmation he needed.

Stepping back out into the shop, he announced, “I’m feeling a bit hungry, Doctor. Can I get you anything from the replicator while I’m up? Perhaps your preferred vintage of bloodwine?”

Julian looked up from his work. “What are you playing at Garak?” The accusation in his voice didn’t match the hint of alarm in his eyes.

“I suppose that was rather presumptuous of me. Jadzia Dax was the one with a fondness for Klingon cuisine. I really have no idea what Julian Dax would like.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, getting to his feet. “And you know, I’m feeling a lot better, I think I will go back to work.” He grabbed the satchel and quickly moved towards the door – a little too quickly, it seemed. He came to a rather sudden stop and wavered on the spot.

Garak stepped in and gently returned him to his seat at the workbench. “Doctor, I really don’t want to have to call in a medical team.”

“You can’t keep me here, Garak.” His tone was persistent, but thankfully he didn’t try to move.

“No, I can’t. But I can try to persuade you that you should stay. In spite of your protest to the contrary, you did choose to come here. Why was that?”

Julian ignored that question, still seeking some way out. “This is only temporary; no one is supposed to know about it.”

“But I do. This may come as some surprise, Doctor, but I have been known to keep a secret, from time to time.”

A smile briefly flashed across Julian’s face before settling into a more neutral expression as he considered. After a moment he nodded, and said, “Lock the doors.”

Garak did so, and waited as Julian scanned himself with the tricorder once more. Satisfied with the results, he said, “After Jadzia died, we put Dax into stasis according to Trill specifications until a new host could get here. It should have been fine there for a few days, but this morning it began to decline suddenly. I don’t know why, but it’s probably related to the unusual manner in which Jadzia died. It needs a biological host until the initiate arrives. I’m it.”

Garak blinked a few times. “And?”

He looked mildly affronted, as if he couldn’t imagine what else Garak might want to know. “What do you mean by ‘and?’”

“ _And_ , who am I speaking to right now?”

“Right. Julian, definitely Julian.”

Garak found this a trifle hard to believe. “There was no blending of personalities?”

“No, it doesn’t work like that with symbionts and humans, apparently. There’s only been one other human-symbiont joining on record and in that instance the symbiont completely overwhelmed the host’s personality. I was banking on my genetic enhancements to give me an edge and allow me to assert myself. Thankfully I got that one right. The two of us are separate entities, though I know what Dax is feeling, and to some extent what it wants, and vice versa.”

 _An interesting possibility,_ Garak thought, but he still had his doubts that Julian was entirely in control of himself. “But you must have Dax’s memories. How else could you have suddenly acquired an eye for fashion?”

Julian smirked. “That would be Emony, though Jadzia was no slouch in that department either. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to tap into Dax’s memories regarding style, but that’s what gave me away. Am I really so colorblind most of the time?” He gazed over his shoulder at the mannequins, scrutinizing them as he spoke.

“I’ve known Ferengi with better taste, and they aren’t exactly known for their eyesight.”

“Well, in any case, thank you for letting me hide out here. I thought I would be able to spend the day in the infirmary, taking it easy and catching up on reports. But Jadzia was friends with so many people on this station and had so many plans… Every time someone would come in or pass by that she was close to, Dax would get rather melancholy. I couldn’t keep putting Dax through that. Emotional stress would only further weaken its immune system. After a few hours, I had to get us out of there.”

“I take it that since Jadzia and I weren’t particularly close, Dax doesn’t have the same reaction?” Garak had been saddened to hear of her death, but their friendship had always been a fairly superficial one.

“Right. It’s that, and the fact that you two didn’t have any unfinished business. Dax doesn’t feel any remorse there, so this is okay. Actually better than okay, Dax is rather enjoying life from my perspective.”

“I suppose Dax would. As I understand it, collecting unique memories and new experiences is a pillar of Trill culture. Getting to experience life as a human, even a sick one, must be singular. Dax will be the envy of symbionts everywhere. But tell me Doctor, how do _you_ feel, having all of these memories at your disposal?” Fascinating as Dax’s reaction was, Garak was far more interested in where the two personalities might overlap.

“It’s exhilarating, as long as I don’t dwell on the sad memories. I’ve got eight lifetimes of knowledge at my fingertips, so to speak. From a medical perspective alone, understanding what it feels like to be someone else is invaluable, but all the life experiences? It’s incredible, there’s so much here…” and he was off, babbling about all the different things he’d never done or experienced, yet now understood intimately, unconcerned that Garak couldn’t entirely relate. Whoever this person might be, Garak was sure this was Julian Bashir’s reaction.

Tempting as it was to let him continue indefinitely, Garak cut him off once he found a decent opening. “You know doctor, I’m glad that where I’m concerned, Jadzia had no regrets when she passed, but I’m afraid I have one in regards to her. I heard that a past host of hers once met Iloja of Prim, and I never got to ask her about the experience.”

Julian’s eyes went wide, “Yes! That was Tobin when he was on Vulcan.” He opened his mouth but then shut it, his face taking on a more puzzled look.

“What is it?”

“It’s just that, thanks to an acquaintance of mine, I know firsthand that exiled Cardassians don’t have many choices for resettlement, but I don’t know how the Vulcans put up with Iloja for so long. He was a thoroughly unpleasant man.”

“Then the rumors of his temper are not exaggerated?”

“In Tobin’s experience, no. Iloja frightened him so badly, their confrontation kept him awake at night.”

“What did Tobin do to earn his ire?”

“Nothing intentional. Tobin was a very meek, nervous sort of man. Always agonizing because he felt he was in the way or irritating others. He said ‘sorry’ to Iloja one too many times, and Iloja really let him have it.”

“I suppose Tobin never read any of his poetry then.”

“Definitely not. But later hosts did. Jadzia was quite fond of his work.”

“Tell me, did she prefer his pre- or post-exile poetry?”

“Post-exile.”

“I suspected she might. After he was exiled, he was more straightforward in his criticisms of the First Republic. If you ask me, his work suffered for it, and his later poems lacked the elegance and subtlety they once had.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue on Jadzia’s behalf. They’re her opinions, not mine.”

“And what is your opinion? Surely you have memories of reading these poems that you can tap into.”

“It’s not really that easy. I can’t seem to separate memories of a host doing something from how that host felt at the time. Any opinion of Iloja’s poems I give you right now wouldn’t really be my own.”

“Well that’s easy to solve. I can provide a copy.” He left Julian where he sat, and moved to the terminal. _Curious, either he really is mentally separated from the symbiont, or he’s doing an excellent job of pretending._

As he navigated the library searching for the right volume, he went on, “I suppose that Dax is aware of the historical context required to appreciate these poems?”

“Yes, but I’m keen to hear your take as well. Your understanding of it will be different than that of a Trill’s.”

Garak let out a short puff of laughter, “I’m certain it is. Iloja objected to the First Republic’s more imperialist tendencies as they attempted to unify the planet. He hoped that his criticisms of the government were small and scattered enough that his poems wouldn’t attract their attention.” As the computer began to load a selection of Iloja’s poetry onto a PADD, Garak looked up to see Julian slumped over the workbench. “Doctor?” he asked, a note of panic reverberating in the momentary silence.

“I’m alright, I just…it’s painful, being in this state,” he said as he raised his head slowly. “I can’t take any more painkillers for a few hours, or I’ll risk permanently damaging a few organs.”

 _This really isn’t my area of expertise,_ Garak thought. His skills extended through the sort of first aid he might need to administer to himself while on assignment, a far cry from cross-species joining or minimizing risk in pain management. Reminding the doctor not to overexert himself was the only advice he felt confident in offering. “Perhaps you should return to the infirmary.”

“No, going back to the infirmary would only make Dax anxious; I just need to wait it out. Why, you’re not worried about me, are you?” he grinned weakly.

“I only wish to avoid any unpleasant questions from security should you pass out,” he replied. A flimsy lie, but he wouldn’t let Julian’s provocation go unanswered. “Doctor, if all is as well as can be expected on a medical level, surely there’s something to be done for your comfort?”

“Unless you have a cot hidden in your back room, I doubt it. I’d love to lie down.”

“I’m afraid not, but what’s that human expression? ‘Necessity is the mother of invention?’ I believe I can improvise, give me a moment.”

Garak went to the back room and selected a bolt of Earth wool batting, ideal for quilts. While the arts community on the station wasn’t exactly thriving, a few residents were trying to revive forgotten Bajoran crafts from before the occupation. With the planet still recovering, it was easier to import Federation materials to practice with.

Back in the shop, he stepped behind the counter – out of sight of any passers-by – and began unrolling the bolt. After about six feet, he layered it back over itself, and so on. When the tail end finally rolled off the bolt, he had several layers of fabric creating a thick cushion. He scrunched up the fabric at the head of the “bed” to create a makeshift pillow, and finished it off by covering it with a cotton linen. _All things considered, I’d say it’s not half bad. But then what I’d say hardly matters._ “Doctor, come this way.”

Julian circled around the counter. “Well that seems cozy enough, he said. He lowered himself onto the bedding, stretched out, and relaxed.

“Better?”

“Much. In fact…Would it bother you if I take a nap? I don’t know if the pain will subside enough that I could fall asleep, but I’d like to try.”

“By all means, go right ahead. I have plenty of work to keep me occupied.”

“Thank you Garak.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said. He pulled a chair around to one end of the counter along with his PADD for decoding transmissions. He set to work, and sure enough, in five minutes time he heard Julian’s breath become slow and deep.

As Garak settled into a routine with his work, silence settled over the shop, a state that he found quite unfamiliar in Julian’s presence. Conversation was the foundation of their friendship, but Julian clearly needed rest, and Garak wasn’t about to keep him awake with idle chatter at a time like this. _And yet, isn’t this just as pleasant?_ he thought. _A quiet reassurance, steady whispers, ebbing and flowing…_

At that moment, Julian stirred in his sleep. _Ah, not so steady then,_ he thought as he turned to look at his drowsing friend. Some twinge of pain had most likely brought him to the edge of wakefulness, but those deep breaths resumed shortly.

Reassured that Julian was safely asleep once more, Garak should have returned to his work, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away. It had been so long since they had had more than a quick conversation in passing, he had few opportunities to simply _look._ And what a sight he was. _It’s a wonder I didn’t completely unravel the day I laid eyes on him._

He did finally tear himself away. _Stolen glances are acceptable, unabashed gawking is not, even if no one is around to see it._ He returned to his work and the afternoon passed as Julian slept fitfully. Resisting the temptation to continue staring, Garak ignored any further interruptions in his friend’s sleep. It therefore took Garak by surprise when minutes after one such bout of restlessness, Julian said, “You asked me why I came here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You asked me why I came here. There’s a little more than what I told you. I was planning to apologize to you at lunch today, before I had to cancel.”

“Whatever were you planning on apologizing for?”

Julian leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows. “I never wanted to put so much distance between us, but spending time with you became too risky for me. You’re so perceptive; it would have only been a matter of time before you figured out that my capabilities were beyond that of a normal human.”

“You did what you had to do to protect yourself. I hardly hold that against you.”

“Yes, but there wasn’t much of a reason for me to keep that distance once everyone knew about my genetic enhancements. That’s what I’m sorry for.”

There it was. The invisible, ever-present tension that had been hanging in the air between them finally called out, made visible. Garak had never been willing to bring up his displeasure with the way they were growing apart, at least, not in any serious way. He feared that it would break the spell and end their friendship entirely. It was a risk he was unwilling to take.

“I…hate how much keeping that secret affected my life,” Julian continued. “It cast a shadow over everything I said or did. I didn’t want to face that for a long time, so I kept you away. It’s no excuse, but I’m sorry.”

“Does that mean you wish to resume our weekly lunches?”

“Well, yes, but I was wondering if you might be interested in dinner instead?”

This was all, simply, too good to be true. “I’m not sure that I can accept such an offer.” This wasn’t the sort of conversation one had at a distance, and Garak moved in to sit next to Julian.

“I’ve waited too long, haven’t I? Ah well,” Julian said with practiced nonchalance. “It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last.”

“Oh, it’s not your tardiness I object to, Doctor, though your procrastination is impressive. It’s merely that I don’t think I can accept an invitation that you extend when you’re not entirely yourself.” Garak had been prepared to accept that Julian might have been operating on his own, but this was wholly unexpected. The only conclusion was that he was being influenced in some way by the symbiont.

“I already told you, there was no blending of personalities. I’m separate from Dax. I’m not confused about who I am or who they were.”

“And yet, you were able to match colors properly and tell me about Iloja of Prim.”

“Tapping into another person’s memories isn’t the same as becoming that person.”

“Nevertheless, the presence of Dax’s memories could be affecting your decisions. A choice that looks good to you right now might not seem wise once the symbiont is removed.”

“Did you forget the part where I said I planned to tell you this at lunch today? A plan I made long before Dax needed assistance?”

“I believe you said you planned to apologize at lunch, not invite me on a date.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Okay, let’s say, for the sake of argument, I am being influenced by Dax in some way. I wake up on the biobed hours from and think ‘This is a huge mistake, I did and said things I didn’t mean.’ Would you hold any of that against me?”

“Doctor, the question isn’t whether I would hold your actions against you, but whether you would hold mine against me.”

“No, I wouldn’t, because I know that whoever or whatever I am at this moment, I want this. And if I change my mind later, then so be it, but I won’t regret anything I chose to do right now. A host cannot be held responsible for a former host’s actions. I argued that in court for Jadzia. This might be an unusual situation, but I think I deserve that same right once Dax is gone. So, again, the real question is whether you can accept it in the unlikely event that I change my mind when this is all over.”

He shouldn’t dare to hope. Everything in his experience was telling him that any desire on the part of the doctor’s was fleeting, that he should not trust that this would all work out, and that truly, he had nothing to look forward to but a continued life of solitude in a few short hours.

But a small, traitorous voice at the back of his head urged, _what do you have to lose?_

He locked eyes with Julian. “I suppose, if you’re willing to risk it, then so am I.”

And there was that smile, the one he’d seen far too little of these past two years. Really if he was going to go this far, why not go just a hair further? He leaned in and placed a short kiss on those smiling lips, and Julian responded in kind. Julian sat up properly, and threw his lanky arms around Garak and pulled him in for a tight hug. Garak returned the embrace, content to savor the contact indefinitely.

It wasn’t nearly long enough. Shortly, Julian’s communicator chirped, “Bandee to Bashir, your patient has arrived.”

Bashir responded, “Thank you, I’ll be along shortly. Please begin prepping for surgery.”

Garak offered a hand to help Julian get to his feet. “Would you like me to walk you to the infirmary?”

“I would, actually, but I didn’t fare so well after my walk here. I think I’ll play it safe and transport directly to the infirmary.” He smoothed out his uniform as best he could, though it did little to disguise the fact that he’d been sleeping on the floor. “The transfer of the symbiont should only take a couple hours. Can I come see you when it’s all over? I need to show you that it really is me who wants this.”

“I would be delighted.”

“Excellent. If there are any complications and it gets too late, we can meet up tomorrow.”

My dear doctor, if the news is good, an intrusion on my sleep would be welcome.”

Julian breathed a short sigh, clearly reluctant to leave. “Well, I’ll see you soon then.” He took Garak’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“Goodbye Doctor,” _whoever you are._

Julian released his hand and tapped his com badge. “Bashir to Infirmary, medical transport. One to beam out.” With a final grin, he dematerialized.

Garak spent the next several hours in practiced tedium. Tidying up his shop, closing up for the day, dining alone in his quarters. _After all,_ he thought, _there’s nothing to look forward to. All will go back to normal tomorrow._

He refused to acknowledge how much concentration it was taking to focus in on these aphorisms.

Such as it was, he was genuinely startled when the door chimed. “Enter,” he called, and moved to meet Julian there.

When the doors parted, he immediately began to analyze what he saw to prepare himself for what was to come. Julian certainly seemed in better health: steady on his feet, no longer perspiring. Still a touch pale, and an expected look of exhaustion about him, but much improved from this afternoon. His expression, however, was what would truly tell Garak what to anticipate. There didn’t seem to be any embarrassment or awkwardness which is what he had been anticipating. There was, however, a sadness about his eyes. _Ah well,_ he thought, _that settles it. We will clear the air and all will be back as it should be._

Garak fixed a smile and offered, “Why don’t you sit down, Doctor, you must still be tired.”

“Yes, I certainly am, thank you.”

“You do seem to be recovering well. I take it the transfer was successful?”

“Hmm? Yes!” he said distractedly. “Yes, the joining was successful. Remid Dax is doing well; nothing that rest and relaxation can’t fix.”

They both retired to the couch, and the silence lingered for a time. _Let’s not drag this out,_ Garak thought. “We can pretend the whole thing never happened, if that’s easiest.”

A look of confusion crossed Julian’s face. “No, why would we?”

“Please, Doctor, reading people has been a necessary aspect of my occupation for decades now. You’re clearly distraught about what happened today.”

“No, well, okay…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll try to explain this as best I can. I meant every word I said to you earlier, and I’m not taking any of it back. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you the past two years. If you’ll have me, I’d very much like to take you out to dinner. But…”

Garak didn’t dare to breathe.

“What’s happened to me is all uncharted territory, psychologically speaking. Dr. Crusher’s reports on the other human-symbiont joining focused on keeping both of them alive. She didn’t leave any notes on emotional recovery after the separation.

“The memories I have from Dax are still there, but they’re fading. I believe they’ll disappear completely, sooner or later, but I don’t know how long that will take. I feel as though I’m losing close friends and my own mind at the same time. I need to take some time off, from everything. I’m going to make some log entries, record the important things I’ll want to remember. Maybe it will help me grieve for them as well.”

 _How horrid,_ Garak thought, but verbally he offered, “Well, that does explain it. You have my sincere condolences.”

“I’m sorry to do this to you.” Fingers made clumsy by the day’s ordeal came to the side of Garak’s head and ran through his hair before Julian let his hand drop inelegantly. “This wasn’t at all how I wanted things to go. But I can promise you a date once I get my head sorted out.”

Once more, an insistent part of Garak’s mind pleaded its case: _What do you have to lose?_

“I’ve waited for years. What’s a little while longer?”

“I promise, I’ll make it worth the wait, he said. Leaning in, he placed a kiss on Garak’s cheek. He could see the exhaustion plain on Julian’s face as he pulled back, in spite of his joyful expression.

“My dear doctor, as much as I enjoy your company, I would never forgive myself if I contributed to your already stressful day. Why not get some rest?”

Julian nodded, “Yes, that does sound good right about now.” He stepped over to the door. “You know Garak, Dax wanted to thank you. No other hosts had ever kissed a Cardassian before, not even Jadzia or Curzon.”

“Who am I to deny Dax a unique experience?” he offered, with no small amount of sarcasm. “Ah, that reminds me,” he said, and retrieved a PADD. “It might have been a reread for Dax, but I do hope you’ll give Iloja a try when you’re feeling up to it.”

Julian grinned. “With any luck, I’ll have it read for our date,” he said, taking the PADD from him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you around.”

Garak inclined his head. “Until then, Doctor.”

Julian cast him one more appreciative glance, and left.

Alone once more, Garak found himself with a rather curious feeling. Perhaps Julian’s sense of loss was contagious, because he found himself missing the late Jadzia Dax.

The two of them had never breached that barrier that would have enabled them to refer to each other as anything other than colleagues, at best. For his part, she had very much earned his respect. He hadn’t realized it at first, but he came to understand that she held very few of the preconceptions that her Federation colleagues did. She’d befriended many others who weren’t exactly popular within the Federation. Any reluctance she had in associating with him probably had less to do with any personal dislike of Cardassians and more to do with being a senior officer who needed to earn the trust of the Bajoran populace.

They came to know each other better as they worked together to retake the station, but still never quite connected, perhaps only because neither of them made the effort to do so. _Ah well,_ he thought, _Jadzia apparently had no regrets where I was concerned, and I have none in regards to her._

And yet, here he was, feeling her absence rather acutely. It wasn’t sadness exactly, and it certainly wasn’t grief. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a loose end that needed tying up. He decided to do something to mark her passing, some gesture that would put the sense of loss to rest.

Cardassian practices after death wouldn’t suffice in this matter. There were customs related to filing the many necessary records for the deceased, along with a chant for the dead performed at the funeral. The most meaningful tradition was interring the remains on Prime, joining the deceased with the planet itself in a most intimate fashion. Jadzia Dax had been given the standard Starfleet “burial” via torpedo tube, a method he personally disliked, but it did feel appropriate for someone so self-confident and independent. He had no idea what traditions Trill had for themselves, but they valued memories so highly, he was sure it elevated that aspect of their culture.

He thought of a compromise that he hoped they could both appreciate. He would write out the traditional Cardassian death chant for her rather than recite it aloud, and he would use paper and ink rather than a PADD. Then, he would burn the paper it was written on, and mix the ashes with the native soil in one of his orchid pots.

He set to work, replicating the paper and pen, and jotting down the words. He was exceedingly grateful that his own people’s chant was significantly shorter than the Bajoran equivalent. He completed the chant in short order, and folded the paper, setting it aside.

But he didn’t really feel finished. He realized that there was another loss he wanted to mark, and that was the loss of Julian Dax. Though Julian and the symbiont were both still alive, the joined being they had been was no longer. So he wrote out a second chant, marking his brief, but delightful afternoon with Julian Dax, and added that paper to the pile.

No matter how much Julian had insisted that they were mentally separated, Garak couldn’t believe they were absolutely distinct. As Dax’s memories faded, Julian would surely realize the mistake he was making, and retract his kind invitation.

 _Well,_ he thought, as he replicated a candle and fireproof bowl, _then I may as well have written out a chant for myself, because he will surely be the death of me._


	2. Chapter 2

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

In spite of Garak’s protests, Julian breezed past and placed a bundle he carried on the table. “When you told me that your stomach was upset and you would have to put off our date _again,_ ” he said with particular emphasis, “I decided I would bring our date to you.” Container after container of food emerged from the bundle and he began to set the table.

Garak bristled at the intrusion. His excuse to skip dinner may have been a rather thin one, but it should have served his purposes. The station restaurants were too crowded for his current state of mind. Unfortunately, hosting an unexpected guest wasn’t doing him any favors either, and his own quarters were starting to feel rather airless. “Doctor, I’m afraid I’m really not up to this. Another time, perhaps.”

Julian didn’t even sow down. “Why? Are you seriously ill? I’d be happy to take you to the infirmary. Or perhaps it’s not that kind of illness and a trip to Ezri Tigan’s office is more appropriate.”

“Please,” Garak condescended. He declined to comment on Julian’s spot-on perception, and redirected his ire towards the last person he wanted to see right now. “Were I to trust someone with my mental health, it would be hard to find someone lower on the list than a counselor-in-training with Starfleet Medical.”

“Yes, well, Starfleet doesn’t fast track just anybody, but that’s neither here nor there. If you don’t wish to see a professional, you could always talk to me about why your claustrophobia is acting up.” Plates and cutlery in their right places, he moved to the replicator.

“Thank you, but there’s nothing to discuss.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Right then,” Julian turned back to the replicator. “Two tapered candles, white. Two brass candle holders.” He placed them on the table, lit them, and moved on to serving the food. “I know we both normally prefer more flavorful cuisine, but considering you weren’t feeling well,” he looked pointedly at Garak, “I thought it best to play it safe with something more mild.”

“You’re not being particularly subtle.”

“You’re not giving me much choice,” he said firmly, and he sat down. “I, for one, had a wonderful time on our first two dates, and you seemed to enjoy yourself as well. Then you start avoiding me, and coincidentally, you start collapsing in fits of panic all over the station,” he dropped his eyes to his plate. More softly, he said, “I can’t force you to tell me what’s wrong, nor should I. I’m not a counselor. But if you don’t want to see me anymore, I’d at least like to know why. I shudder to think that I might have done or said something that’s contributed to these panic attacks you’re having.”

Garak didn’t so much as blink, but breathed deeply as he steadied himself and let the room expand again. The abandoned dates with Julian were victims of his claustrophobia, not the cause of the attacks themselves, but he couldn’t expect Julian to know that. Not when he went to such great pains to conceal the issue in the first place.

He sat down at the table. Cautiously, he teased, “You must think very highly of yourself to assume you’re the root cause of my mental turmoil.” That got a brief smile out of Julian, which Garak returned. He still wasn’t going to discuss his panic attacks. He fully intended to overcome them on his own, but Julian needed reassurance, and he could manage that much right now. “Tell me, what have you brought for dinner?” Garak asked, eyeing the plate in front of him. “Something from the Klingon establishment?”

“Yes, the gladst came from there. I got the vak clover soup from Quark’s, and I replicated the pilaf myself. A more toned-down version of what I showed you before, in case you really were sick. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” This last question flowed from the previous statement as though he were hoping to startle Garak into giving him an honest answer.

“No. But I will have dinner with you. I’ve been rather inconsiderate, putting it off as I have.”

Julian appeared to weigh his options, but must have decided against pushing for answers. “Here,” he said, pushing a fruit wedge across the table. “Try adding some lemon to the soup.”

After a brief pause to sample the food, Julian tried to pick up the conversation again. “Did you have a chance to finish that anthology I lent you?”

“I’m afraid not. I only made it through a few of the short stories and poems.”

“Which ones? What did you think of them?”

“If you don’t mid, I’d rather wait to discuss them until I’ve read the full volume. I want a better understanding of nineteenth century Earth poetry as a whole before I speak on any works individually.” He was finding the anthology to be rather dull thus far, though one work did stand out. Unfortunately, he found it to be so unnerving, he decided to shelve the whole thing until his claustrophobia was under control.

Explaining that, however, would bring the conversation back around to the very topic Garak was trying to avoid. “I did, however, start to reread Hobant’s _Aria_ , just as a break in-between decoding transmissions. You understand, it’s much easier to revisit something you’re familiar with when you only have minutes to spare, rather than try and absorb something completely new. Unless Dax introduced you to it, I believe you’re not familiar with the Provincial genre?”

“No,” Julian answered. He was watching Garak intently, picking up on the evasion and trying to read between the lines.

Garak went on, “It’s a genre that arose a few centuries ago, as the Union was beginning to colonize nearby uninhabited planets. The stories glorified the soldiers and settlers who were willing to leave everything behind in order to start mining a new planet for resources. Not my usual fare, but I enjoy _Aria_. Hobant’s characters are charming, and she uses the setting to its greatest effect.” The fact that _Aria_ also heavily featured the wide open savannahs of Pentath III may have also factored into Garak’s choice, but Julian would have to read the novel to piece that together.

He described he plot, and the beats he thought would pique Julian’s interest the most, but rather than engaging, Julian became more and more fixated on his meal. Eventually, it devolved into pushing his food around his plate rather than eating at all.

“My dear?” Garak asked.

“What?” Julian said with more force than necessary.

“You seem to be trying to stab your pilaf.”

In spite of the fact that he’d been staring directly at his plate, he only just now seemed to realize how he’d scattered the rice across his plate and onto the table. “I…Sorry,” he ran a hand over his face, clearly embarrassed.

“Coming over uninvited, paying no heed to my side of the conversation, general irritability. If we weren’t on a date already, I’d think you were trying to make your interest known in the Cardassian fashion.”

Julian put his hands up in mock surrender, laughing, “You caught me. I wasn’t selfishly lost in my thoughts at all, it was all part of my plan to seduce you a second time.”

“And what exactly had you so preoccupied?”

Julian proposed a trade: “I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

 _A valiant attempt,_ Garak smirked. He could guess that if Julian wasn’t letting his frustration with the current situation run away with him, his mind had most likely drifted back to the dilemma regarding Dax’s memories. Their absence weighed more heavily on him than either of them had expected, and he was spending his free time researching ways he might restore them. “I think I prefer the theory that you were experimenting with Cardassian flirtation.” He was curious about what was on Julian’s mind, naturally. But he was entitled to a few secrets himself. “You know,” he went on, “I don’t normally care for Klingon food, but then Klingons don’t normally eat vegetation either. The gladst is quite nice, if a little slimy.”

Julian seemed to resign himself to something and allowed himself to be diverted: “I thought you would enjoy it. Klingons consider gladst to be a palate cleanser. They might not appreciate its delicate flavor on its own merits, but at least the head chef understands the demand for it. With so many non-Klingons on the station, it wasn’t long before he started offering it as a stand-alone side dish.”

“Refusing to adapt is the surest way to go out of business.”

Julian met his eyes. “I completely agree.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in,” Julian said. He was standing near the railing, gazing out over the forest preserve that lay beyond Lakarian City. Or rather, the holoprojection of it. The view from the observation tower was unrivaled.

“There were a few minor details I hoped to have arranged before you arrived,” Garak said, walking in. “Computer: delete characters, and change time of day to just before dawn.” The light softened to a warm glow beyond the horizon, and the bustling tourists disappeared, creating a sense of seclusion. If he actually had a choice, he would eschew holoprograms in favor of the real thing, but he had to admit, they did give one a level of control that was nearly impossible in real life. Lakarian City was a popular tourist destination, but they would have the observation deck all to themselves tonight. While most came for the amusement center or the city’s rich history as a former capital, Garak had chosen it for the view.

“How _did_ you get in here before me?” Garak asked, joining his companion and sliding a hand to his waist.

“I wasn’t making much headway with the memory project, so I set the computer to run a number of simulations and left early. I’m hoping that with a stress-free evening, I’ll be able to make better progress tomorrow.”

“A sound plan.” Julian claimed he was making good headway in his attempt to revive Dax’s memories, but all Garak knew for sure is that he seemed to be working himself to death. “But I was referring to how you got the program up and running when I didn’t put the holosuite reservation under your name.”

Julian shrugged, “It wasn’t that hard. I got here early, told Quark I was meeting you. He gave me the data rod and let me in since no one had booked ahead of us.”

Garak scoffed at the Ferengi's disregard for privacy. “I had hoped to meet you outside and give you a proper introduction to Lakarian City, but no matter. Considering I can’t take you to Cardassia myself, I thought I’d show you the finest sunrise my home has to offer here in the holosuite,” he said, gesturing towards the horizon beyond the forest. “During the rainy season, the jacara are at their most verdant.” The tall, tree-like jacara reeds undulated in the breeze, their leaves in perpetual motion.

“Oh,” Julian responded, pleasant surprise crossing his face, before being replaced with something more akin to concern. “I thought you’d be showing me some of the city’s intellectual achievements or the amusement center. I researched it, you see, after you told me where you were taking me. I was really looking forward to it.”

“We can enjoy the city’s thriving culture another time. Tonight, I’d much rather enjoy your company,” he brought his hands to Julian’s face, a thumb brushing his cheek. Rather than capturing his interest, this only made Julian more nervous. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong exactly, but whenever we go to the holosuites, we spend our time exploring each other’s civilizations. Art, monuments, historic sites, nothing too romantic. I thought Lakarian City would be the same, so I sort of…told Miles that he should bring Keiko and the kids by and check it out.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s just that, I can tell he’s still a little…on edge about the two of us being together. I thought it might help to show him, you know, a bit of Cardassian culture he could relate to. Happy families out on a holiday, that sort of thing. I would never have invited him if I knew you had something else in mind.”

Half a dozen questions occurred to Garak at once, including _why would you think Chief O’Brien would ever appreciate anything Cardassian?_ And _did it ever occur to you to ask?_ Verbally, he decided to address the most alarming revelation: “You told Chief O’Brien about us?”

“Yes, of course I did. Ages ago,” he was searching Garak’s face. “Why wouldn’t I? Did you expect me to keep it a secret?” he asked, clearly concerned that he’d misunderstood the nature of their entire relationship thus far.

That wasn’t exactly the case, but he played into the assumption. “’Secret’ is too strong a word. ‘Understated’ would be more apt.”

Julian furrowed his row. “Is that why you won’t so much as hold my hand when we’re out together?” He’d hit the nail on the head. Their relationship had always been flirtatious, but nothing overt, and Garak had been careful not to introduce any new displays of affection to the public.

“I merely thought it would be prudent to wait until our relationship was well-established before we told anyone.”

“Well it’s very fine of you not to tell me about this idea. How long were you going to wait?”

“As long as it took to minimize the damage to your career. It can’t be easy for someone in your position to be dating a Cardassian.”

Again, it wasn’t the whole truth, but it was a factor. Beyond Starfleet’s reaction, Garak had expected Julian would want to keep their relationship a secret for more personal reasons. Being Cardassian was enough to garner skepticism from Julian’s compatriots, but he knew he lacked any of the other qualities the Federation held in such high esteem: youth, conventional good looks, a noble career full of achievements. No longer having status in the Union, he wasn’t considered a good catch by Cardassian standards either. Garak had come to accept that Julian felt the way he did, but the wider social implications had to be considered. Out of respect for everything Julian had to lose, he’d kept quiet.

In hindsight, he should have expected Julian to completely overlook his delicate social maneuvering.

“Do you think I never considered Starfleet’s reaction?” Julian asked.

“My dear doctor, you said it yourself; even your closest friend isn’t thrilled about the company you keep.”

“That’s Miles for you, but he’ll come around. Everyone else has.”

“I take it then that you’ve told the rest of your colleagues about our involvement as well?”

Julian nodded, “Yes,” he said earnestly, “and a lot of other people besides.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Very well.” It was odd – so very odd and disconcerting to leave it all in the hands of others, but it wasn’t as if any damage could be undone at this point. “On to more pressing matters. When are the O’Briens going to be stopping by?”

“Thank you Garak,” he said with relief. “I promise I won’t spring something like this on you again.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Garak reset the program’s parameters and the O’Brien family joined them in short order to tour the amusement center. The visit got off to a tense start when Garak explained the first attraction they came across, the _Mogrund_ hologame. Meant to scare as a means of entertainment, young Cardassians flocked to it, but after seeing the creature, it was determined that it would most likely be too frightening for Molly. The Chief had something critical to say about Cardassian children’s games, too soft for Garak to hear, and Keiko frowned at her husband afterward. Garak had been about to respond in kind, but Julian elbowed him in the side, silently pleading that he play nice, and Garak acquiesced.

Things went more smoothly after that. Molly seemed to enjoy the amusement center, though some of the context was lost as she was unfamiliar with Cardassian children’s stories. Mrs. O’Brien was as pleasant as ever, and Garak carried on a discussion with her about the native flora while Kirayoshi babbled in her arms. The chief was, predictably, terse but polite. Julian probably enjoyed himself the most; he seemed thrilled everyone was getting along.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Garak privately lamented the loss of a more picturesque evening alone with Julian, but Julian was so animated, it was hard to stay disappointed for long.

As they were leaving Quark’s, Chief O’Brien pulled Garak aside, “I can tell Molly had a great time tonight, I was wondering if I could get a copy of this holoprogram so I can bring her back.”

Garak’s eyes widened a fraction in pleasant surprise. “Certainly. I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. It’s good to see Cardassian culture being appreciated for its own merits, especially in these trying times. Perhaps when she’s a little older, Molly will even give the _Mogrund_ a try.”

“Not likely,” he replied, but there was no maliciousness behind it.

Julian was in the midst of a spirited conversation with Keiko, and Garak decided to use the opportunity to his advantage. Assuming a more confidential air, he asked, “Chief, a word if I may?”

O’Brien inclined his head, and they stepped out of earshot.

“Until you showed up tonight, I had no idea that my relationship with Doctor Bashir was common knowledge. I find it strange that in all this time, I never heard so much as a whisper about it from anyone.”

The Chief’s eyebrows rose in apparent amusement, “Maybe you’re losing your touch.”

I’m serious. This station is quite the gossip mill, my clientele in particular. Yet, no busybodies tried to pry into my personal life. I heard no casual mentions of us being a couple. Not even a lewd suggestion from Quark when I booked the holosuite. It’s very peculiar.”

The chief looked as though he couldn’t decide whether he was uncomfortable or annoyed. “Look, no offense, but I don’t want to talk about you two. As for the rest of the station, it’s probably more like they don’t need to talk to you to get their gossip. You know how Julian gets when he’s…passionate about something. I think he’s been talking enough for the both of you.”

Garak fixed a smile. “Ah. Thank you for your insight, Chief.” _I can see a discussion about the bounds of good taste is necessary._

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, and then wandered over to join the others where they stood.

Garak joined them in a flurry of goodbyes, and the O’Briens departed for their quarters.

“Thank you,” said Julian once they were on their own, “for letting them join us. I think they enjoyed it.”

“Mmm, I agree. The evening turned out as well as could be expected, considering how little notice I had before our date became a group event.”

“I really am sorry. I meant to clear it with you first, but there was an influx of emergencies this morning, and then I got pulled into my research – it completely slipped my mind. Besides I’d say we’re even,” his voice taking a slightly superior tone.

“Would you?”

“I forgot to tell you that I invited Miles, and you forgot to tell me that you were treating our relationship like it was classified information. I’d say that makes us even.”

“I only had your best interests and dignity in mind. But, as usual, I’m the only one who seems to understand that.”

“Oh, well, in that case I’m terribly sorry for disrupting your grand plans to rescue my dignity,” he said, all sarcasm, “However can I make it up to you?”

He took Julian’s hand as they crossed the promenade. There was still a consensus to be reached with regards to how much information was too much information, but as they walked together, Julian’s slightly sweaty palm folded in his own, secrecy was feeling distinctly overrated.

“I’m certain you’ll think of something.”


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping into the gunman’s quarters, Garak marveled at how simple it was to get in. The Vulcan was picking off station inhabitants one by one, yet he had set up no extra impediments to keep anyone out. No matter; it simply made it easier for Garak to accomplish what he came here for.

The prototype firearm, modeled after old Earth weapons, was wrapped in cloth, sitting on the dresser. Barely concealed. It was infuriating: the only thing keeping this murderer from getting caught was the fact that he did his killing in the privacy of his own quarters coupled with the Federation’s insistence on preserving their citizens’ privacy. If they had conducted proper surveillance after the first murder, he wouldn’t be here cleaning up the mess himself. But with nearly a dozen murders under the killer’s belt, he wasn’t about to wait for station security to keep him safe when they’d already proved their ineffectiveness. Every night spent alone in his quarters made him a target; everyone on the station was made a target, and if the Federation wasn’t going to do anything about it, he would.

It was easy enough for Garak to figure out it was the Vulcan lieutenant. He already had a head start, having gotten first-hand information from Julian as he played coroner for the victims. It had only taken Garak a week and a half of surveillance to determine the perpetrator, and another week to research how to best sabotage the relic of a weapon.

He entered the specifications into the replicator and a dense brick of ballistics gelatin materialized. Foregoing the viewer, he took aim and fired directly into the gelatin. The bullet came to a stop inside as the brick wobbled. A few button presses and the brick-with-bullet disappeared into the replicator.

With a bullet expended, he now had access to what he really wanted: the shell casing. He inserted the case into the barrel, jamming it and creating a seal. When the Vulcan came home tonight intending to continue his spree, he would fire the gun but the explosive gases and bullet would have nowhere to go, and would choose the path of least of resistance – exploding backwards at him. It would look like an accident, the sort that could be chalked up to the gun being a prototype and the user being ignorant of safety protocols for such an obscure weapon.

As to the Vulcan, he would suffer a serious injury. His best case scenario would involve an emergency medical transport and intensive care, followed by the discovery of what had caused such a grave injury. At the other end of the spectrum was a quick death; poetic justice as far as Garak was concerned. One way or another, the increasingly distracting threat would be eliminated.

His business finished, he folded the gun in the cloth and replaced it on the dresser precisely as it had been before. Erasing all traces of his presence, he made a discreet exit. With the station’s sensors blinded to his movements, he moved unseen by eyes both organic and synthetic.

As the day passed in his shop, he kept an ear out of for news. He witnessed security speeding past his storefront and knew the Vulcan had made his move. Shortly before closing, a regular customer informed him that they’d caught the man. By the time he was sitting down for dinner, word in the replimat was that he died in what looked like an accidental explosion.

Julian was supposed to join him for dinner, but Garak knew that the doctor would be occupied with the autopsy and paperwork on top of his ongoing correspondence with Remid Dax. The two had made contact recently, and while Julian’s attempts to revive Dax’s memories on his own had proved unproductive, he seemed hopeful that Remid might hold a solution.

When Julian failed to show for dinner entirely, Garak decided to check in on him himself.

He rang the chime twice with no answer and was about to double check Julian’s location when the door opened. He looked at Garak briefly, and then turned back into his quarters silently, neither inviting him in nor dismissing him. _The misfire must have been grisly indeed for such a mood to follow him home._

Garak followed him in. “You missed dinner.”

“I didn’t feel much like eating,” he answered flatly. He said nothing more and began throwing a tennis ball at the wall and catching it on the rebound.

“You had a late lunch then?” He busied himself with a loose thread on his sleeve, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve told you before, you work too hard; one offer to work through your lunch break and-“

“Garak.” His voice cut through the air like a cold draft. “I don’t feel much like humoring your nonsense right now, either. I know you were involved in Chu’lak’s death.”

Garak’s concern for Julian’s foul mood was drowned out by a sense of awed pride; he knew he’d covered his tracks, but Julian had figured him out anyway. _So this is what you can do when you use those enhancements to the fullest._ “How, may I ask, did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” Julian demanded. “You can either explain why you killed him, or leave.”

He exhaled softly. “Strictly speaking, I was only aiming to get security’s attention. I wasn’t sure whether it would kill him.”

“You just didn’t care. Fantastic.” The tennis ball made its circuit again. “Did you ever consider that this man might not be in his right mind?”

“He certainly wasn’t treating his little hobby with the care it deserved. Really, I expected finer attention to detail from a Vulcan.”

“Yes! He was suffering from a T’Lokan schism, brain damage due to repressed memories.” While never raising his voice, he was speaking with a particular emphasis he only used when his anger mingled with disappointment. “You might not have been able to diagnose him, but even you could see that something was wrong with him. And you used lethal force anyway.”

“What would you have me do? I’m not about to gamble with our lives.”

“I have a hard time believing that you were never taught how to disable a target without permanently harming them.” Pitch, bounce, catch.

“That was a skill I learned, and one only used in the most convoluted of situations involving high-profile targets. This, however, was entirely straightforward. He shot and killed eleven people, and would certainly attempt to do so again. Getting bogged down in paltry details is not how one survives.”

“Those ‘paltry details’ you’re referring to are what I concern myself with every day. He was someone who needed help, not a rushed judgment and execution.”

“My dear doctor,” he said, letting his own exasperation come through, “have you ever considered that not everyone is deserving of your mercy?”

Julian jerked his head in Garak’s direction, his face a study in incredulity. For just a moment, Garak thought he saw a flash of something like compassion, before a look of as resignation came over him. He lobbed the tennis ball into the replicator, and moved to the door.

Garak mentally scrambled for something that would get the doctor to stay without upsetting him further, but all he could manage was, “Julian?”

Julian paused mid-step for a fraction of a second and then continued, leaving his quarters with Garak still inside.

_Well this certainly hasn’t panned out,_ he thought, wondering what to do next. He considered staying in Julian’s quarters until he returned, but dismissed the idea. If Julian didn’t want to see him right now, forcing the issue would solve nothing. For the time being, he decided to return to his own quarters and call it a night.

Thankfully, he encountered no one in the corridors as he made his way back.

He had considered how Julian might react to discovering his agenda; that was why he had decided to keep it a secret from him. Julian would, and did, disapprove of this sort of thing. Garak had imagined that Julian would most likely turn him in, and he would be facing another few months in a holding cell. Julian did have a duty to Starfleet, after all, and he had never expected that to change.

What Garak hadn’t anticipated was such an impassioned response from Julian on a personal level. He thought that they’d come to an understanding about the lives they’d led. Julian would choose to save a life where Garak would choose to end it; it was as simple as that.

Back in his bedroom, Garak settled in for the night and drew up the covers.

This felt like such a minor footnote compared to the way they had navigated other situations with lives held in the balance. They’d gone back and forth during the misadventure in the holosuite, and Garak had eventually conceded when Julian had shown precisely how far he was willing to go to save everyone. After Garak’s attempt to completely eliminate the Founders, Julian had been a little cold, but had still gone out of his way to visit him in his cell. Julian had barely even acknowledged Garak’s part in bringing the Romulans into the war. These incidents had never caused any lasting resentment between them.

He flipped over, pillowing his head on his arms.

There was only one conclusion: he’d finally crossed a line that Julian could not, would not cross himself, and their time together was coming to an end. It shouldn’t have surprised him; Garak had been expecting something to drive them apart long before now. And yet, he had to force himself to unclench his jaw.

He tossed the covers aside, the air abruptly stifling.


	5. Chapter 5

Though Garak would have preferred a distraction, the following day passed uneventfully in his shop. It gave him plenty of time to replay their argument in his head and berate himself for growing so attached.

With such thoughts occupying his mind, it took him by surprise when Julian called on him in the evening.

“I thought you’d left.”

“I did, sort of, but I decided to come back,” Julian responded, his face careworn.

“Why?” Garak pled.

“Because.” Julian covered Garak’s hand with his own. It was an answer, but not the answer to the question Garak had asked.

“I’m sorry I stormed off like that earlier,” he continued, “I’d like to talk about what happened. Constructively, this time.”

“I’m afraid I’m not certain what there is to talk about. I made a choice; you disagreed vehemently. I don’t see why that wasn’t the end of it.”

“If by ‘end,’ you mean we find a way to move on together, then yes,” his expression moved from conciliatory to puzzlement. “But it sounds like you’re suggesting that this is the end of,” he paused searching, “us.”

“What else could it be? I’ve never seen you take so much exception to my actions, and I have to say, I don’t regret what I did in the least. If my life, or yours for that matter, is threatened, I will respond in kind.”

“That’s not the problem,” he said softly. “We’re in a war. No one’s hands are clean anymore, including mine. What bothered me was how you observed an obviously ill man and didn’t come to me first.”

“Oh, certainly,” he said, laying on the sarcasm. “And what if the man in question had been perfectly healthy? I’m sure you’d be content to let me dispose of him then, yes?”

“Of course not. Your sense of self-defense and what constitutes an appropriate response will always be different than mine, but I can accept that, within reason. All I ask is that you give me a chance to do my job when it’s relevant to the situation.”

Garak blinked a few times. “Oh, I find it hard to believe that would be enough. I give you that much and all is forgiven,” he exaggerated. “And then we get one of those 'Happily Ever Afters' your human fairy tales are so fond of.”

“I-," he stuttered, but stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “My god, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” he searched Garak’s face. “You _expect_ me to leave you.”

Garak didn’t care for that observation in the least; it was far too accurate. Rolling his eyes, he said, “If this is the sort of psychiatric evaluation you offer, I think I did the Vulcan a favor.”

Julian circled around and stood inches away, forcing Garak to look at him. “This whole time,” he rasped, “you haven’t been taking things slow out of some cultural need to pace things out.” Anger and hurt contorted his face. “You’ve been trying to protect yourself, bracing yourself for the final blow when I break it off.”

“Why shouldn’t I prepare myself for what I know is coming?” he asked defensively.

Julian grabbed his upper arm. “What have I ever done that would make you think I’m going to walk out on you?”

Garak laughed derisively. “My dear doctor, it’s not anything you’ve done, it’s who I am. It’s who you are. At the end of the day, I’m a passing infatuation for you. Sooner or later, the illusion will wear away and you’ll see that yourself.”

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told,” he said, looking him up and down. “You know what I think? You’re not even lying to me right now. You’re just trying to convince yourself that’s true.”

“Believe me, I’m not the one that needs convincing.”

“Garak, what do you want?”

“What I want has never mattered in the face of reality,” he said flatly.

“It matters to me.” Julian searched the ceiling, as if hoping to find more straightforward answers there. “Look if this is all some excuse or some head game you’re playing to get me to break it off because you don’t want to do it yourself, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to play along. Now answer the question: do you want to be with me? Yes or no?”

Garak dismissed the fleeting impulse to say no and put an end to things right then and there instead of letting this drag on. “I would never be so cruel as to manipulate you that way.”

“Then let me stay.”

Refusing to meet his eye, Garak gave a single concrete nod.

Sleep came to Garak in fits and starts that night, not used to sharing a bed with another. Every little twitch as Julian slept kept Garak from falling asleep completely. He silently excused himself to the living room in the early hours of the morning and stared out the window watching the stars creep past as the station rotated.

_“What do you want?”_ Julian had asked him. There were a great many things Garak wanted, but virtually all of them were beyond his reach. To return to Cardassia, obviously. For his home to throw off the Dominion occupation, one way or another, and return to self-governance. Family members who weren’t either dead or denying his existence. To feel _warm_ again. And, as he’d told Julian earlier, the fact that he wanted these things didn’t matter; he could no more return to Cardassia or end the war than he could become Chancellor of Andor.

He had always felt that Julian belonged to this group of unobtainables as well. He was drawn to Julian as if caught in a tractor beam, and his presence brightened Garak’s days. For years, they’d kept up a pattern of enjoyable flirtation, but Julian would only take it so far, and Garak assumed that’s where things had settled.

When Julian had approached him on that fateful day many months ago, Garak had chalked it up to a quirk afforded by the Dax symbiont. He had since come to recognize that Dax had little to do with it, but that in turn pointed to shortsighted idealism on Julian’s part. They were teetering on the edge, and any number of things could push them apart. Julian was eager to move past this fight, but what about the next?

Or the fiftieth?

Or when Julian found a more compelling companion?

Or when Starfleet inevitably issued a new assignment, taking Julian to some far-flung station or planet?

It was doomed from the start, and Garak knew he'd been a fool to enter into the relationship. That was why he'd kept his guard up and tried to maintain some emotional distance. But what was the use when it left Julian all the more upset with him?

Julian joined him at the window, setting his chin on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. “It’s still early. Why not come back to bed?”

“I’ve tried. Sleep wasn’t coming to me, that’s how I ended up out here,” he said, motioning out at the stars beyond the viewport.

Julian’s eyes followed the sweep of his hand. Pushing his head forward, past Garak’s shoulder, he squinted towards the corner of the viewport. “Koralis seems awfully bright tonight.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Such minute differences are beyond my perception, I’m afraid.”

Julian must have appreciated that Garak didn’t take the opportunity to provoke him about his genetic enhancements. He tightened his hug and began to sway slightly, the two of them still watching the starscape.

“I am sorry, my dear,” Garak said. “I didn’t mean for things to come to a head as they did. But I must confess, my outlook hasn’t changed overnight.”

The swaying abruptly stopped.

Garak elaborated, “I know that you have no intention of leaving, but every scenario I can conceive of comes to an eventual end with you following another path.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the probability expert,” he muttered. Garak was pleased to hear some of his usual humor creeping back.

“Nevertheless,” Garak turned to face him, “I would like to stay with you, until then.”

“That’s not how I want it,” he shook his head sadly, “Garak you’re never going to relax if you think I’m on the verge of walking out. What else can I say to convince you?”

“I don’t think there is anything else you can say.”

Julian’s eyes, pained searched his, before suddenly going wide. “I have an idea.”


	6. Chapter 6

“And what if I can’t regain control of my body?” Garak asked. He was keeping pace with Julian as they made their way down the street of an alien world.

“That’s impossible; this is an imprint of a host you’re dealing with. Your brain will never allow it to override your control.”

“Then what do you call what happened to Odo?”

“I told you before; Odo was a special case since he was a changeling. He could still have separated whenever he wanted with the help of a guardian. He just didn’t want to. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

_I’ll be the judge of that,_ Garak thought. He’d agreed to participate in this farce of a ritual as a favor to Julian. He would have agreed to nearly anything at that point, but he was far from happy about being dragged across the sector to some backwater planet to participate in a zhian’tara.

“Remind me again why you can’t embody this one particular imprint? You’re embodying all the others.”

“Remid and I researched it extensively. If I were to host myself, my brain would most likely recognize the memories as my own and file them away where they ‘belong.’ At that point, it would be impossible for the guardian to remove them again without harming me, telepathically. Besides, you know why you’re really here.”

“Because rather than allow any of Remid’s other friends the honor of hosting his-and-your memories, you volunteered me.”

“Yes Garak, I did,” Julian said, finally losing his patience. He slowed his pace and turned, “After spending ages telling you how I feel about you and trying to demonstrate it with my every action, I made the entirely unreasonable decision to prove it to you beyond a shadow of a doubt by enlisting you in Remid’s zhian’tara.”

“Well at least we agree on something,” he said with a wide smile.

Julian rolled his eyes and kept moving, and Garak followed. Another few blocks brought them to a municipal building. “Here we are,” Julian announced, and began taking stairs two at a time as Garak hurried to keep up.

The lobby was large and ostentatious, at least by the standards of this planet. It was distinguished further by the sort of wear that only comes with age, though perhaps that was to be expected. Remid’s occupation was that of outreach librarian – traveling to unaligned planets and gifting them with the entirety of the Federation’s knowledge, and then taking back whatever the local populace saw fit to share in return.

A quick scan of the lobby and Julian had spotted him. “Remid!” shouted, and Garak could see the young man flinch as his name echoed through the hushed space. He recovered quickly, however, and moved to meet them.

“Julian, it’s good to see you again,” he said, hugging the doctor. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

“Neither of us were looking our best right before the surgery.”

“Garak, it’s good to see you again as well,” he said, offering a nod.

“Likewise,” was all Garak could muster at the moment. It was uncanny; a different body and voice paired with familiar mannerisms and affectations.

“Come on,” Remid motioned, “Let me show you my office.”

Down the hall and around the corner, Garak found the exact point where Remid’s personality diverged from Jadzia’s. The office may as well have been an austere museum exhibition. No clutter to speak of, PADDs neatly stacked, isolinear chips sorted and labeled. The contents of the entire room were laid out in crisp right angles to one another.

“How’s Balmei IV treating you?” Julian asked. “Any noteworthy discoveries?”

“Oh, probably. But my job has less to do with making that determination and more to do with collecting data en masse and making sure it ends up in front of the right people. I have noticed that they have a taxonomic hierarchy that I’ve personally never seen before. I could tell you all about the differences. Or we could watch grass grow. I’m sure you’d find it equally thrilling.”

Julian chuckled. Not waiting for an appropriate pivot in the conversation, he said, “Thank you again for allowing me to host your memories for a little while.”

“Oh,” he waved an arm, “I told you, it works out well for both of us. My work will keep me here for another year, and everyone I’m close to is scattered across the quadrant. Getting them all together for a traditional zhian’tara would be a minor miracle. So you and I might as well make the most of the situation, I really do hope it brings you the closure you’re looking for.”

“As do I.”

“Yes, the arrangement is quite agreeable for the both of you,” Garak broke in, “But if you don’t mind, I have a few questions for you about the procedure.”

“I thought you might,” Remid said.

“If I understand correctly, when your memories are returned to you, you’ll be able to remember the time that the imprint spent in my body.”

“That’s correct. Or, at least it usually is.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been told that Cardassians undergo intensive mind-training from an early age, and those who are particularly skilled are able to resist even a Vulcan mind meld. I expect you are very skilled in that department, considering your former profession. It’s just a theory, but when the time comes to transfer my memories back to me, you should be able to hold on to the memories the imprint formed so that I don’t end up with a copy.”

“I’m surprised you would even mention the possibility. I wouldn’t think a Trill would give up an opportunity like this so easily.”

“Believe me, I’d like nothing more to hang on to any new memories I can. I’ve been told it’s very valuable to see yourself from the outside. But the goal of the zhian’tara is for me to understand my disparate parts and how they combine to make the whole of who I am. Speaking with the imprint should be enough.”

“How generous of you.”

“You’re doing me a favor Garak. The least I can do is make you a little more comfortable with it.”

Garak inclined his head, “Nevertheless, if you do end up with more than a passing glimpse of my psyche-“

Remid held his hands up, “All secrets will be kept, whether they personal in nature, relating to your past, or your current work for the Federation.”

“That would be much appreciated. If you don’t mind me asking, how long does one of these sessions take?”

“Depends. Sometimes it’s only an hour, sometimes it’s several. For our purposes here, it will take about twice as long as a normal zhian’tara since Julian wants some time alone with each of the past hosts. We’ll probably get through one or two hosts per day. You’re welcome to observe any of the sessions, if it will set your mind at ease.”

“I think that will do nicely.”

“Wonderful. We can get started first thing tomorrow morning, after you’ve had a chance to rest up. I just have a few things to wrap up here, and then we can head back to my place. The good news is that I’ll have dinner ready for you very quickly after we get there. The bad news is that it’s only because the Balmeans don’t have much of a culinary scene. They consider meals to be purely utilitarian, so I apologize if it’s a bit unimaginative. Julian, I hope you brought those spices I asked for.”

It was a short walk to Remid’s apartment was a short one. Garak was pleased to see that while the Balmeans might lack a refined palate, their living quarters seemed quite comfortable. They would be using the apartment complex’s well-appointed community room on the top floor for the zhian’tara, and Remid’s apartment unit was most spacious.

As promised, Remid had the meal prepared in record time. Julian and Remid carried the bulk of the conversation over dinner while Garak was content to observe this new Dax. Remid was more thoughtful, less off-the-cuff than his predecessor. Truth be told, Garak’s first impression of Jadzia hadn’t been entirely positive. Such a bold personality fitted to one who seemed so young; it didn’t feel as though she’d earned it. He quickly learned how old she really was, and revised his opinion of her. Her confidence and lust for life was one of her greatest assets.

Remid, by comparison, didn’t seem to have such vitality about him. There was still a strong sense of self-assuredness, but he seemed far more guarded. It was as if he was taking time to think through what he said – not because he was worried about saying the wrong thing, but he was choosing from several “right” things and crafted his response with care.

The evening wore on, and Garak excused himself. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in early. I’d like to be well rested when I observe the first session tomorrow.”

Remid had made a number of grand promises about the zhian’tara, but as he’d just observed, Remid was a separate entity from the young woman he’d known. A veritable stranger with an unknown agenda. Who knew what the imprint might do once it was in Garak’s head, or what Remid might glean from the imprint’s record while it was there. The entire situation was an intelligence nightmare.

He still wasn’t sure what it was that Julian expected him to take away from the experience. Supposedly, he would be receiving a greater understanding of Julian’s feelings for him, as if it were that simple. _Shouldn’t it have been enough for him once I made my understanding of the situation clear?_

Apparently not, because here he was. Garak might still believe that Julian would set his own course one day, but he wouldn’t let Julian walk away believing he hadn’t at least tried. Not after the damage he’d already done.

In the meantime though, he would practice his telepathic blocking. He had next to no control over the situation, so he would exercise what little control he had where he could.

The next week flew by as Garak played witness to the zhian’tara. The process was always the same. A guardian would recite some invocation and Julian’s head would loll forward. When he looked back up, his posture, speech patterns, and tone of voice would all be different. Remid would then converse with a specter of his past and get to know that past host a little better. After Remid was satisfied, Julian was given a little time to converse with the past host himself.

This process was intriguing. Most of the time, he sat there in silence, different expressions flashing across his face as he and an imprint carried a conversation mentally. On some occasions, however, both Julian and the former host would start speaking in turns, but neither could complete a full sentence. It was unnerving; if Garak didn’t know what was happening, he would have assumed insanity. When Garak asked about it, Julian explained, “We’re both inclined to communicate verbally, but our minds communicate more quickly than we can speak, so it all sounds sort of stilted, as you heard.”

For what it was worth, Julian did seem to have complete control over his body, when he wanted. Garak interrupted these interviews several times over the week to see how quickly Julian could spring forth and take control. The effect was near immediate. Julian grew tired of these interruptions, but Garak couldn’t resist one last visit when Jadzia was called forward.

He let himself into the room after he saw that Remid had left. “Excuse me, if I may have a word,” he interjected.

“Yes, Garak, I’m still here,” Julian said.

“I appreciate your responsiveness, as always, but I was hoping to speak with the Lieutenant Commander.”

“Oh,” Julian was taken aback, but not unpleasantly so. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” With one fluid motion, his demeanor changed and someone else was looking out through his eyes. “Garak,” Jadzia said, “Of all people, I hadn’t thought I’d be seeing you at a zhian’tara.”

“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, but there’s something I wished to tell you while I still have the chance to do so.”

“Go on,” she said, clasping Julian’s hands behind his back.

“You see, I wanted to take the opportunity to express my condolences regarding your death. You were a formidable colleague and the two of us had more in common than I think either of us realized.”

She arched Julian’s brow, “Is that so?”

“Yes, you see we both had a penchant for gathering information. I cast a much wider net, of course, but I always admired your skills in the realm of the station’s social life. Even Odo trailed behind you on occasion. And so, in that spirit, I wanted to be the first to tell you that Doctor Bashir and I decided to take our relationship from mere conjecture to reality.”

A look of surprise, quickly followed by irritation as Julian took over once more. “I was going to tell her myself!”

“And miss the looks on your face? I think not. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Now bring Jadzia back for me.”

Julian huffed, and let Jadzia resurface. “I knew there was something going on between you two,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“I expected nothing less,” he complemented.

“How did it happen?”

“Ah, I’ll allow the doctor to answer that. Seeing as how I’ve robbed him of the big surprise, it’s only fair that I let him tell you the rest in excruciating detail.”

“Garak,” she reached out and grabbed his arm before he could move to leave, her tone more serious. “Julian is one of my best friends. Be good to him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replied, and she smiled at that. “I’ll take my leave and let you get back to your conversation. It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

“Likewise,” she said, with just a hint of irony.

She turned away from Garak and sat down to converse with Julian, and the two of them slipped into that curious mode of communication, all half-broken sentences spoken from a single mouth.

“So you and- Yes- I told you that- I know, but it wasn’t- Then why did you wait- Well I can give you credit for- Then how did you- After you died- You hosted-,” Julian’s head bobbed as the speaker switched.

Garak listened in until he couldn’t follow the conversation any further, and then left.

When Julian returned to their guest room late that night, he was tired, but content. _A state of mind he hasn’t known as of late,_ Garak thought. Julian wordlessly seated himself on the couch next to Garak, and promptly made himself comfortable there with his head on Garak’s shoulder.

“I take it you’ve found what you’ve been missing?”

“Mmm Hmm,” Julian hummed in response.

_At least one of us will have gotten something out of this trip,_ he thought, and then immediately quelled that particular strain of pessimism. It might be true, but here he was with Julian curled up against him, finally at peace after a long, stressful journey to find closure. His cynicism could wait until tomorrow.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Garak breathed deep as the guardian placed a hand on the back of his head. He focused his consciousness on allowing the transferal while staying on high alert for any unwanted intrusion from the guardian as he chanted.

“I'nora, ja'kala Dax. Zhian'shee Julian tanus rem. Gon'dar Remid tor. Remid, zhian'tara vok. Tu Dax, zhian'tani ress. Zhian'par, Julian garu'koj.”

Electricity shot through Garak’s head like a phaser blast ricocheting around a sealed room. His head dropped and he felt his body being held up by a force beyond himself. Immediately, Garak could tell that this would be a test of will. He had vainly hoped that the sensation wouldn’t resemble that of being trapped in an enclosed space, but of course it did.

The imprint of Julian looked up and reoriented himself to the room as Garak observed passively.

“Remid?” he asked, his particular strain of Standard spoken through Garak’s voice. “Is this a zhian’tara?”

“That’s right. Welcome back.”

The guardian interjected. “Alright, before I let you two get started, what’s the last thing you remember?” he asked Julian.

“Lying on a biobed in the infirmary, waiting for the symbiont transfer to Remid.”

“And Remid, what did Julian have for lunch on the day that he hosted Dax?”

“Beats me,” Remid replied.

“Julian?”

“I skipped lunch altogether,” Julian said. “I mean, I was supposed to meet Garak for lunch, but then there was the emergency with the symbiont,” he gestured as he spoke, flinging his arms about as Julian was wont to do, and Garak felt like a ragdoll. “I managed to eat a puff pastry before I had to leave the infirmary.” Julian’s emphatic gestures finally brought his hands within his field of vision, and he brought them closer, eyes lingering on the gray skin.

“That all checks out,” the guardian said in clipped tones, “I’ll be back later.” Garak heard him putter out of the room, but Julian was touching his face, putting two and two together.

_[Garak?]_ Julian’s voice, unspoken, echoed in Garak’s head.

_I’m here,_ he thought back.

“I take it you’ve figured out whose body you’re in,” Remid said.

“Oh this is fantastic,” he said, to which Remid only laughed.

“Let’s see, if this is your zhian’tara, it must have been about a year since you joined Dax and Garak and I got together. Speaking of which, where am I? The real me, I mean?” He glanced around the room before asking in a panicked tone, “Please tell me I’m not dead?”

“No, no,” Remid reassured him. “You’re here actually, elsewhere in the building. We both decided it would be best if you didn’t embody yourself.”

“I’m surprised that you and I managed to talk Garak into participating. Are we on Trill?”

“Julian, you know this is supposed to be my zhian’tara and not yours, right?”

“Right! Sorry.”

Remid laughed again with good humor. “We’ve arranged it so that you’ll have time to speak with Garak once you and I are done here. To be honest, we shouldn’t be too long. You only hosted Dax for one day. One that’s very memorable for me, but still only one.”

“You won’t get any disagreement from me. Our time together may have been short, but I would describe it as nearly transcendental.”

“It really meant that much to you?”

“Absolutely! You have to know that telepathy is extremely rare in humans. Suddenly having that sort of connection with another being…It was extraordinary.”

“I suppose we tend to take that sort of thing for granted. Even in a society where only a fraction of us will end up joined, you can usually count on participating in a friend’s zhian’tara, or interacting with symbionts as an employee of the Symbiosis Commission. I try my best to keep it all in perspective.”

“Well, all I can say is that I hope you got Jadzia’s sense of tact. I don’t think you’ll be getting much help from me in that department. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing memorable about that day. There was the whole thing with Garak of course, which was a long time coming. And on top of all that, I’ve never been more ill in my life. It’s rare that I get sick in the first place, and I couldn’t do much of anything to help myself since so many drugs are incompatible between humans and symbionts.”

“That reminds me, I wanted to thank you for what I managed to glean of your chosen career. Ever since I was joined, I find that I understand medical jargon a little more easily. It comes in handy when I’m sorting through an entire planet’s library.”

Garak listened in as the conversation wove this way and that and they discussed the various ways that Julian influenced Remid’s personality. As Julian had hinted at, some of his social inelegance had come through, but luckily for Remid, Dax’s other hosts could compensate. Tragically, they agreed that Julian’s optimism was contagious.

As Remid had predicted, this session didn’t last as long as the others and they were soon ready to part ways. Remid excused himself and Garak was left alone with the imprint of Julian.

_[As exciting as it was to talk to Remid and see how I’m still having an impact, I’ve been looking forward to some time alone with you.]_ Julian settled into an expression which Garak would normally have found compelling, but under the circumstances, it only added fuel to his smoldering panic.

_Before we go any farther, I’d like to be allowed to control myself again. I kept the claustrophobia tamped down while you spoke with Remid, but I think our conversation would benefit if I weren’t distracted by such discomfort._

_[Oh!]_  Julian exclaimed, and Garak felt his head fall forward and he was back in charge. He took several deep breaths, relieved. He flexed each of his muscles in turn, happy to feel them respond.

_[Better?]_

_Much._

_[So, my dear Mr. Garak, how did I talk you into this?]_ Julian thought, oblivious to the recent tumult that had made this meeting possible.

_Threatened is more like it._

_[Well that doesn’t sound like me.]_

_Thing have been a bit…tense lately._

_[Oh. I don’t care for that at all. What’s happened?]_

_I’d rather not spend our limited time together rehashing the how’s and why’s. To summarize, I ended the life of one of your patients who had become extremely violent._

Julian was silent for a moment. _[That does sound like something that would upset me.]_

_Doesn’t it?_ he replied. _I had hoped to conceal my involvement and spare you from any trouble, but you continue to surprise me. We had quite the fight about it. The dust has settled a little since then, but this is part of the reparations. The real…the_ corporeal _Julian Bashir seemed to think that spending some time with you in my head would allow me to better understand his point of view._

_[And how’s that going so far? Any breakthroughs about me?]_

_My dear doctor, I don’t even know what it is you want me to learn from this._

_[You know Garak, one of the things about having me in your head is that you can’t tell lies the way you’re used to. I know that you’re not telling the truth right now, for instance. You could tell if I was lying too, if I was being dishonest.]_

_A detail that no one saw fit to inform me about,_ he noted. No wonder Julian was so insistent about this little exercise.

_[Normally, I’d love to peel back your lies one by one, but from what I understand, we don’t have much time together. So why don’t we cut the pretense and you tell me what’s going on?]_

_And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse than the sensation of being trapped in my own body. Now you take my obfuscation away from me. Very well. You accused me of trying to sabotage our relationship because I expected you to leave. I admit to the expectation, but I never acted with the intention of speeding up the process._

_[Why do you think I’m going to leave? I’m a year out of date, but that would be the furthest thing from my mind.]_

_No, the real question is why would you stay?_

That earned him a somewhat indignant response from Julian. _[I don’t see why I wouldn’t. You’re attractive, intelligent, you keep me guessing and I love a challenge. You’ve never given a damn about genetic enhancements, which is refreshing. Need I go on?]_

_You flatter me, but you fail to acknowledge the paradox at hand. You have priorities that rank higher than your relationship with me. The health and safety of your patients, as a recent example._

_[Yes, that’s true. But thankfully, you don’t exist in a perpetual state of endangering everyone around you.]_

_Come now, both you and your living counterpart must know my moral compass has always pointed in a different direction than your own. It may have changed a few degrees since we first met, but it still hasn’t aligned with yours._

_[Garak, we fought about this more than once as friends and got through it, we can survive this as a couple too. We-]_ Julian paused mid-thought before continuing. _[Hang on, I think you’re on to something. I can tell you believe some of what you’re telling me, but you’re not telling me the whole truth either.]_

_I really don’t care for this method of communication,_ he critiqued. _One’s own thoughts interrupt the flow of conversation._

Julian plowed on ahead, _[There_ are _some obligations that we each hold that might take precedence over one another. What are yours?]_

_Mine?_

_[You accused me of being unable to reconcile my devotion to my occupation with my devotion to you. But I have, and you know it; we went through it together and came out with our friendship intact. I think this is about your devotion to someone or something else.]_

_A fascinating theory, but I don’t find it terribly compelling,_ he dismissed.

_[So let’s think here,]_ he thought with a healthy dose of sarcasm, _[What matters so much to Elim Garak that he would sacrifice everything else he holds dear for it? I can think of something.]_

_I’m really not interested in pursuing this line of thought any further._

_[You’d rather let everything fall apart?]_

_What would be the difference?_   he snapped.

_[I know you still want to go back to Cardassia,]_ he responded with equal force. _[I’ve known that for years. If there is one thing about you that I know will never change, it’s your devotion to your planet and your people. I know all of that, and I still want to be with you.]_

_My departure may be sudden. The more attached to each other we are, the more painful it will be when I leave._

_[I want you to be happy, and you never will be completely happy until you’re able to go home again. Besides, you’re acting like you have to choose between your home and me, and that’s not necessarily the case.]_

_You can’t be suggesting a long-distance relationship._

_[Well, that’s one option. The other is that I go with you.]_

_As in, to Cardassia_ , he clarified, disbelieving.

_[Yes!]_

Garak massaged his temples. _I know you’re prone to letting your optimism run rampant, but I think you’ve outdone yourself this time._

_[Do you doubt my sincerity, or the logistics? Because I’m not saying it will be easy. I may have to invent a new research project that necessitates moving to Cardassia. It would take longer than usual to get Starfleet’s approval and special clearance, and we would probably have to wait until the war is over. I can’t even speculate about the bureaucracy involved on the Cardassian side of things, but I assume that if you’re in a position to return, you’ll be making important friends in no time. If that doesn’t work, well, at that point it might be time for me to consider leaving Starfleet.]_

_You’ve given this quite a lot of thought, haven’t you?_

_[Until now, that was all I had. Just fantasies and what-if scenarios.]_

_I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my compatriots are somewhat xenophobic. You wouldn’t exactly be welcomed._

_[It can’t be that different from when I first arrived here. Most Bajorans weren’t exactly happy to see Starfleet move in after your people left. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t typically make a good first impression. I’m used to people needing a few years to warm up to me.]_

_How could I possibly ask you to leave behind everyone you know and everything you find familiar when I would refuse to do the same?_ Garak asked. He was quickly realizing that was the question at the crux of it.

_[You said it yourself, our moral compasses aren’t aligned. I’m not attached to these things in the same way that you are. Most humans aren’t. We scatter ourselves across habitable worlds as if we’re trying to get away from each other. As for me, I’ve told you what my childhood was like. I have no desire to go home again. I could live just about anywhere with you, as long as I can go back to the station every now and then to see everyone. Well, that, and continue to practice medicine in some capacity.]_

Garak decided this was as good a moment as any to put Julian’s mind-reading claim to the test. He reached out with his mind to probe Julian’s consciousness. Amidst the compassion, self-assuredness, and a good deal of frustration, Garak could find no trace of dishonesty. Julian really would follow him to Cardassia, under the right circumstances.

He leaned forward, head in his hands. That Julian would even consider such a drastic decision weighed heavy on him. It was a gift he didn’t deserve.

Julian must have been concerned by Garak’s silence, as Garak suddenly found his mouth and lungs seized from him. “I love you,” Julian said aloud. It felt like a prolonged muscle spasm.

_I’m only just starting to realize what that means, coming from you,_ he replied.

That earned him a chuckle. _[Sounds like we’ve made ourselves clear.]_

_Quite,_ he thought, sitting back up straight. He felt groggy, as if waking up from a long sleep. _I only hope that the living Julian Bashir, tempered as he is by recent events, is still as forgiving as he used to be._ Garak took a deep breath. _My dear, I believe our time together is growing short. You’ve given me an insight I can’t hope to repay, but is there anything I can do for you?_

_[There is, actually. Could I borrow one of your arms? It doesn’t matter which one. You keep full control of everything else, and we can stop if you feel uncomfortable.]_

_Very well,_ Garak responded. He let his left arm drop before it began moving, seemingly of its own volition. Julian moved it this way and that. It felt a bit disconcerting, but not anxiety-inducing, thankfully.

_[Perfect. Now if you could step over to the window so I can see your reflection.]_

_You do remember that we’re not entirely alone, don’t you? I hope you’re not planning on doing anything unseemly._

_[No, nothing you’d be bothered by Dax seeing. Now hurry up,]_ and Garak’s left hand flew up as Julian snapped his fingers.

_For a disembodied arm, you certainly have a mind of your own,_ he thought, making the short walk across the room. _Here we are. What would you like me to do?_

_[You don’t have to do anything except keep an eye on your reflection so I can see you.]_

Garak nodded at his likeness to indicate that he was ready for whatever Julian had in mind.

_[There, now just relax.]_ He brought his hand up to Garak’s face and grazed the ridges that curled around his ear lightly before running his fingers through Garak’s hair. He combed through a few more times before bringing his hand back to Garak’s cheek. Garak turned his face towards the palm. He was permitted to hold the pose for a few moments before being gently chided. _[Shh, look,]_ Julian reminded him, and Garak reluctantly returned his gaze to the viewport. Julian drifted his hand slowly over his neck ridge before settling on his chest.

_[There. I’ve always wanted to do that, but I never had the chance.]_

_I’m pleased to say you made up for lost time._ Julian surrendered his arm back to Garak. He shook it out briefly to reassure himself it was his own again. _I suppose we should say our goodbyes before inviting Remid and the guardian back._

_[Thank you for doing this Garak. I know I’m just a collection of memories to be revived once a lifetime, but I’m still me. Seeing you again is more than I could have hoped for.]_

_I would have done this for no one else._

_[Would it be alright if I take over for the transfer back? I’d like to ‘say goodbye’ to Remid before I rejoin Dax.]_

_So long as you don’t get drawn into a long conversation._

_[It should only be a few minutes before you’re on your own again, promise.]_

_Allow me a moment to get oriented, if you would._ Garak walked over to the door. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a few seconds. _Alright, go ahead._

Knowing what to expect the second time around made switching over a bit easier. Julian raised his head and walked out. Garak did his best to relax as he was carried through the hallway, along for the ride as Julian located the guardian, who in turn called Dax up from the apartment. They reassembled in the room and took their positions near the ceremonial torch.

_[I look forward to hearing about what happens at the next zhian’tara,]_ Julian’s thoughts broke in just as the guardian placed a hand on the back of Garak’s neck. _[Promise to keep in touch with Dax so I’ll find out?]_

_I think I’ll leave that to your corporeal self. But I can promise that whatever he has to share with Dax will be worth sharing._

The guardian was reciting the sacred words again. This was the moment; he could put up his mental defenses and block the guardian from taking the new memories with the old.

And with it, he would erase the last hour from the imprint’s existence.

He knew he shouldn’t care. This Julian wasn’t even real; a mere record of previously fired neurons and extrapolation.

But that record loved him. That Julian would have followed him to Cardassia. Allowing him to keep a copy of those memories felt like a worthy sacrifice to what had been, to what could still be.

As the guardian’s recitation ended, Garak once again felt electricity coursing through his head leaving behind an emptiness in its wake. He had full control over his body, and he shook out his shirtsleeves as he settled back in.

“Well, that’s it,” the guardian said. Turning to Garak, he asked, “Does everything seem to be in its right place to you? No traces of the imprint left behind?”

“None. You did an impeccable job of cleaning up.”

“And you? Do you remember everything?”

Remid’s eyes were pinned to Garak. The guardian either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Yes,” Remid breathed.

“Excellent,” said the guardian, wandering over to the torch. “I just have a few things to clean up here, and I’ll be on my way again,” he said, as he started emptying the basin of its mud.

For a moment, Garak thought he’d have to encourage the guardian to leave the room himself, but Remid stepped in. “Darvol,” he said, finally turning to face the guardian, “Could Garak and I have a few moments alone?”

The guardian let out an inconvenienced sigh and let himself out of the room.

As soon as the door slid shut, Remid started in. “You let me have them. You didn’t even try to shield yourself from the guardian. Why?”

“If you have the memories, then surely you should know why,” Garak said. Remid may have seen what transpired, but any discussion of it was out of the question.

Remid’s knitted brows eventually relaxed. He let out a small laugh, and shook his head. “Of course, you’re back to being enigmatic.” His countenance turned more sincere. “Whatever the case may be, thank you. I know you didn’t do it for me, but it means a lot that you let me keep those memories. I promise I won’t say a word, not to Julian, not to anyone else.”

“That’s very generous of you, but I’m afraid I’m going to need you to go a step further. I take it you’ve just been with Julian, discussing your half of the zhian’tara?”

“Of course. You know how Julian is, he wanted to hear everything.”

“Excellent. When he approaches you in the future and asks you what the imprint and I discussed – we both know it’s only a matter of time – you’re going to tell him that my memory blocking was effective, and you can’t recall a thing.”

Remid’s eyes darted back and forth between Garak’s own, “After everything you just went through, you’re still going to lie to him about this?”

“On the contrary, _I’m_ going to tell him the truth,” he said with an innocent smile that would fool no one.

There was a spark of something in Remid’s eyes, as if he nearly recognized what was going on. But then he looked away and waved a hand in resigned indifference. “Alright, if that’s what you want me to tell him, I will.”

“Thank you, it’s much appreciated. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to speak to the Julian that doesn’t reside in your memories.”

“He’s waiting for you in the guest room.”

“Wonderful. I do expect that my conversation with Julian will go on for some time. I trust we will see you for breakfast before we depart tomorrow?”

Remid blinked a few times, “Yes. Yes, I’ll see you there.”

Garak inclined his head, “Then I’ll wish you a pleasant evening,” and he left Remid behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Garak strode across the complex towards Remid’s apartment, putting the finishing touches on the story he was going to tell. He took a number of fast, shallow breaths, hoping to sell the look of agitation. Not that he needed Julian to believe him – that wasn’t the point – but it was the principal of the thing.

He moved silently, and when the door to the guest room slid open, it revealed Julian stumbling to his feet from the bed, caught off guard. “Garak-,” he started, “That was quick. I really didn’t know how long you would take.”

“I wasn’t inclined to linger,” Garak said. “Aside from the wretched sensation of feeling trapped while your imprint had control of my body, his conversational skills left something to be desired. I’m afraid the memories you left with Dax have been corrupted.”

Julian furrowed his brow, “What do you mean?”

“He told me all sorts of fantastical things,” Garak said as he stepped closer, Julian gaping at him. “At times, he raved like a lunatic, at others, he was very nearly coherent.”

“Remid didn’t mention anything like that,” he stated, cautious skepticism in his voice.

“Yes, his half of the zhian’tara seemed to go much more smoothly, though I couldn’t fathom why. All I can say is that speaking to your imprint left me with more questions than answers.”

“What did he say?” Julian asked, pulling at the threads of the story Garak was weaving. “Maybe I could shed some light on what he meant.”

“Some of it was understandable but not particularly helpful. You expressed your continued resentment towards your parents. You went on for a while about how tennis is preferable to racquetball. You broke down and admitted that your sense of fashion left something to be desired, and asked for my assistance.

“You also said a number of things too outrageous to be believable. That you regret becoming a doctor. That you find Chief O’Brien’s company to be tedious, and that you wish you’d never brought up the idea of playing darts together. That the idea of moving to Cardassia didn’t sound objectionable to you, and that you could easily imagine residing there with me.

“And then,” he stepped closer, until they were only inches apart, “there were a number of statements that fell somewhere in between. I would never assume that you had grown to enjoy the aroma of rokassa juice, but after you mentioned it, I realized you haven’t complained the way you used to. I’ve long suspected that you didn’t enjoy _Hamlet_ as much as you claimed, and while you didn’t confirm my suspicion, you went oddly mute when I brought it up. You even went so far as to say that you loved me, a preposterous claim, of course, but the imprint said it with such conviction, I very nearly believed him.”

Garak paused for effect. He could see Julian’s mind racing, turning over each statement for examination. “That’s only a sampling of the unusual things your imprint told me; there were many more. So you see my dear, I’m afraid that rather than reaching the understanding you were hoping for, I find myself overwhelmed by fragments of your shattered memory.”

“Garak, I-,” Julian started. He probably intended to say something sympathetic, foolish, or both, but Garak wasn’t about to let that happen.

“I think,” he said, cutting Julian off, “my only course of action is to discover for myself how much the imprint reflected the real you.”

Julian stared into his eyes for a moment, and then broke into a wide smile, which Garak returned.

Julian cleared his throat, “It sounds like quite a lot of information to sort out. It could take ages to determine what’s true and what’s false.”

“Years, I expect. We’ll have to spend extended periods of time together. Only keen observation will uncover how you really feel about rokassa juice.”

Julian stifled a laugh, “I’m not some sort of test subject to be kept and poked and prodded, you know.”

“I make no promises regarding pokes or prods, but unlike a vole in a lab, you’re free to go at any time. However,” he said, raising his hand, brushing the back of his fingers over Julian’s temple. “I can’t help but think you’re going to stay.”


End file.
